


End of the World As We Know It

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Humor, One Shot, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the last night before a suicide mission to the wight-infested Twins, Jaime knows exactly how he wants to pass his last hours. </p><p>J/B Shuffled Challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the World As We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to SigilBroken for stealing the idea for the Twins infested with wights from In This Light. 
> 
> This is for the J/B Shuffled challenge. The song was "The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" by REM, but I ended up really only using the idea of people facing their last night on Earth.

The last night before they would reach the Twins, the Lannister forces found a nearly deserted inn run by a fierce-looking old man and a hard-eyed young man still suspiciously plump despite the long years of war.

Most of the men camped in a tight circle around the inn, the captains taking rooms inside. Ser Daven Lannister gave the innkeep the last of his gold dragons and strongly suggested the pair make their way south.

As the men washed down a meager stew with watered ale, Daven laid out the maps Walder Frey had provided and explained their attack plan. Wights were disorganized, but if the White Walkers were nearby, they would stand no chance at all. The crown had spared 500 men to secure the Twins, and only then to establish a stronghold close to the Neck.

As the night wore on, the captains all retired to their rooms, leaving Daven sitting at a long table with his cousin Ser Jaime, Jaime’s woman Lady Brienne, and Brienne’s hedge knight Ser Hyle Hunt. The one time Daven dared ask Jaime about her, Jaime swore rather forcefully that the big, scarred swordswoman remained a maiden, as if it mattered. Her island home was destroyed years ago by sellswords and Jaime had been removed from the Kingsguard before being ordered to join Daven's forces.  

Daven could easily recall the last time he’d sat with Jaime swapping tales with such easy companionship. Riverrun, back when they thought the war was nearly over. Before the Warrior’s Sons, the Pretender, and Winter. Finally the stories ebbed and all sat in comfortable silence.

Jaime leaned over and whispered something in Brienne’s ear. She blushed bright red and shoved him. “Don’t mock me,” she muttered, taking another sip of the ale she’d finally been cajoled into drinking.

“Was I mocking you?” Jaime asked, voice teasing but eyes dark.

Brienne shook her head and ignored him.

Jaime stood. “Hunt, you take first watch. I’m going to bed.” Jaime tended to forget he was not commander here. Daven let it go. Jaime walked over to the stairs and turned back. “Brienne, are you coming?”

Brienne swallowed hard. She looked back at him sharply. Daven couldn’t stifle a laugh. If this was his cousin’s idea of seduction, perhaps Jaime should have realized he’d have to be more obvious.

Jaime walked back over to her, tugging her up from her seat. “Gods, wench, must you be so stubborn tonight?”

“Ser Daven was going to show me the maps again,” Brienne protested.

"The maps, the thrice-damned towers, and all the wights inside will be there on the morrow,” Jaime reminded her, his patience clearly running out.

“We can speak in the morning,” Daven offered. They were both rather hopeless at this, or perhaps the lady truly thought no one had noticed the closeness of their partnership. She fought by his weak right side in every skirmish, never leaving Jaime unprotected. The one time a soldier had referred to Lady Brienne as the Kingslayer’s whore in Jaime’s hearing the soldier had lost a good portion of his teeth.

Still Brienne didn’t move. Daven couldn’t see her eyes but he could see the way she was biting her lip.

Jaime grabbed her hand and took a step toward the stairs. “Come to bed,” he said more quietly.

This time she moved.

As they disappeared up the stairs, Hunt cleared his throat. “That was different.”

Daven laughed. “They oft share a bed.”

Hunt shrugged. “I know, but have you ever heard or seen anything? I hear you and that camp follower often enough.”

There was a loud thump from upstairs, and Jaime’s muffled voice followed by a series of quieter thumps. Boots and boiled leather hitting the floor.  

Both men looked up. Hunt gave an uncomfortable little laugh. “So much for not hearing anything.”

Daven poured himself another mug of ale from the nearly empty tankard. He gestured at Hunt’s mug. At Hunt’s nod, he poured the hedge knight more ale.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, the fire crackling and popping in the hearth. Absently Daven reviewed maps of the Twins. This attack was hopeless, and they all knew it. Somewhere in the Westerlands, his Frey bride waited for word of his death.

From above, a series of sharp cries broke the silence. A low moan. Jaime’s deep laughter.

Daven drained his mug. “I think I’ll stay down here tonight.”

Hunt rolled his eyes as the noises from above started again. "I doubt that will matter much.”


End file.
